None Left to Protest
by jalenmara
Summary: Ron and Hermione's dance-- a missing moment from DH


None Left to Protest  
_by jalen_mara_

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling's brilliance does not belong to me, but the Speckle-nosed Beetletrout of South America does. I'm making no money off of this, so please don't sue me. I'm broke.

~*~*~*~*~

"Come and dance." Ron said, throwing as threatening a look at Krum as he could muster before taking advantage of the request to grab Hermione's hand and pull her out onto the dance floor. Who the bloody hell did that git think he was anyway? Waltzing in here and trying to take his Hermione away from him. Again!

An insistent tugging on his hand drew his attention back to the present. "Ron, slow down! I can't walk  
that fast in these heels." Hermione's voice floated up from behind him. Ron willed himself to relax and slow down.

"Stupid muggle shoes." he muttered as he reached the edge of the dance floor and turned to face her. He was surprised to find that Hermione's face, eyes... and lips were somehow closer to his own than he was used to. "What'd you do? Put a growth charm on them?" he asked, his attention focused on those lips.

Those same lips that now pursed slightly before an exasperated sigh escaped. "They are shoes, Ronald.  
They're supposed to be like this." With that matter of fact statement, she grabbed his right arm and placed it on her waist before stepping into him and onto the dance floor. Ron was momentarily taken aback and had already started scanning the floor to see if his mother was anywhere near them before he remembered that in his haste to get Hermione away from Krum he had insinuated something having to do with dancing.

"Besides," she continued, politely overlooking the fact that he couldn't seem to find the beat of the  
music, "I like being tall, for once." She winced as one of Ron's gangling feet accidentally crushed the  
toe of said shoe. "But, if you don't care for them-" she gasped.

"Sorry." Ron muttered sheepishly, glaring over Hermione's shoulder to ensure that Vicky had neither  
seen his dancing faux paux, nor had tried to follow them onto the floor in an attempt to try to steal a  
dance. Ron would hate to risk incurring Fleur's wrath by a stealthily laid curse gone wrong.

"Ron, I'm down here." Hermione's annoyed voice found his ears. "It's normally customary to pay attention to the girl one asks to dance."

Ron slid his arm further around her waist and smiled down at her. From the feel of her body pressed  
securely against his, Ron would venture a guess that Hermione was a girl no longer. In order to distract  
himself from this highly dangerous line on thinking he cast about wildly for a different topic of  
conversation, his eyes drinking in the details of his best friend. He hadn't been lying to her when he had  
said she looked great. There were subtle differences about her- her normally bushy hair slicked back and  
firmly controlled. He liked the effect, but missed the slightly frenzied look the frizziness of her hair  
tended to give her. And the dress... well, let's just say it accented her perfectly. As for the color...

"What is the color anyways?" he wrinkled his nose as he fingered the gauzy sleeve of the dress. For a  
moment he was horrified as his watch caught, snagging the sleeve. "Purple?" he stammered, trying to keep her attention focused on his words rather than his vain attempt to free his watch without her noticing or his ripping her sleeve right off of her dress. He could hear Fred and George's inappropriate jokes already - not to mention his mother's lecture on proper wizard behavior, accident or no.

With a roll of her eyes, Hermione stopped moving in his arms and reached upwards to free his wrist  
herself. "It's called lavender." she stated before her eyes widened and her hand involuntarily twitched in  
his, pulling the watch free, but leaving a long snag that would need to be repaired.

Ron froze in uncertainty and could feel the tips of his ears reddening. So, they had arrived at Lavender.  
He sighed. Funny how they had never talked about it. Not really anyways. They had both just glided over it - circumstances seemed to dictate more important needs, but now... surrounded by family and friends on a day meant to celebrate commitment and love…

Ron struggled with himself for a moment, trying to gauge how much he really needed to say and do.  
Hermione had ducked her head to where he couldn't see her face, but he could feel her trembling underneath his hands. He had to say something at least, but for the life of him could not figure out which of the _12 Fail Safe Ways to Charm Witches_ he could use to get out of this spot of bother.

There was _#3 - Compliment at every opportunity_. This seemed a likely option, but even as he opened his  
mouth the words stopped in his throat seeming hollow before they even left his mouth. This directly  
contradicted _#7 - Never mention a previous relationship, even though current relationship seems  
stable_. He didn't even really know what he and Hermione were much less what he was allowed to say  
about Lavender. How would he possibly know if this was a trap? His hands and arms started to itch as he  
remembered a sudden vicious swarm of canaries. No... he would need to answer carefully.

They definitely weren't to _#10 - Kiss and make better_. At least not in front of this crowd. He could feel his ears getting warmer and his hands were starting to sweat. "Well, what about Vicky?" he blurted out pointedly before closing his eyes in frustration. He had just broken _#11 - Never fight fire with fire_. And  
now he was going to pay for it.

"Viktor and I are pen-pals." Hermione hissed, her eyes flashing dangerously as Ron snorted in amusement. She imitated the sound. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You know damn well, what it means, Hermione." He snarled, before closing his eyes and taking a deep  
breath. He didn't want to do this anymore. Not here.

"Fine." Hermione tugged her hand out of his grasp and took a step back. "If you'd rather I danced with him--"

Her face was white as he sighed and took her hand, entwining their fingers before stepping close and  
whispering "No, I wouldn't." For a moment she looked like she would flounce off anyways, but she sniffed and stepped back into his embrace.

"Fine."

"Fine." he said softly. "Anyways... you want to know the reason I had a go with Lavender? It was stupid,  
and I know I was a right prat, but it was because of something Ginny had said about you and Krum..." his  
voice trailed off and Hermione had the decency to look chagrined. "And well, the rest, as they say, is  
history."

"Ron." she moaned. "That was years ago."

He chuckled quietly. "You know me, always a bit slow on the uptake." The answering snort was all the  
confirmation he needed. "But, in case you hadn't noticed - this time I plucked up the courage to ask  
you first." He glanced down at her surprised face, her lips parted slightly as the shock of hearing her  
almost three years old words flitted across her features.

He smiled. "You'll never be a last resort, Hermione." He had finally settled on _#1 - When in doubt, speak  
from the heart_.

Her brown eyes suddenly sparkled mysteriously in the light of the golden bubbles dancing about the  
merry-makers. "Oh, Ron." she breathed.

Ron simply settled her head closer to his chest, hoping that she couldn't hear the nervous pounding of  
his heart over the soft warbling of Celestina Warbeck in the background. He nudged a floating champagne bottle out of the way and twirled Hermione around the floor, his nervousness now forgotten. Lavender was firmly in his past, just like Krum was in Hermione's, but as long as he didn't do anything asinine, she seemed content. Here, with him.

He glanced over the top of her head, her hair now responding to the humidity of the early evening air by  
expanding and straining against whatever measures she had taken to control it. Krum was now standing at the corner of the dance floor, having apparently just finished his conversation with Harry. His deep set  
eyes seemed to bore into Ron's for a moment, as if scrutinizing every aspect of him and the women he now held in his arms.

Ron lifted his chin defiantly, the feel of Hermione's slight form cuddled against him giving him a sudden  
surge of confidence. Krum simply regarded him for a few moments longer before lifting his champagne glass in a silent salute and draining it in one gulp. His hard gaze finally settled on Luna's father who was  
loudly extolling the virtues of the elusive Speckle-nosed Beetletrout of South America to anyone who would listen.

The music had slowed from Celestina's warbling to a slower, more romantic number. Bill and Fleur (looking disgustingly sweet as always), as well as Fred, George, and a few French guests had taken to the  
floor. Hermione attempted to pull away, but Ron kept his grasp on her hand firm. "One more?" he asked, trying to look especially appealing.

Hermione blushed prettily, but nodded and stepped back into his embrace. Ron sighed happily, ready to enjoy a moment just between the two of them without having to worry about Harry, or Vol-, he still couldn't even think it - You-Know-Who, or even his loving but over-protective family. Right now, all that mattered was that he was holding Hermione in his arms. And she wasn't fighting, or pulling away, or getting ready to make a snarky comment, or about to curse him into oblivion. This was definitely progress. "You smell nice." He stated, realizing as he said it that it was true.

It was a scent dissimilar to anything he had smelled before. It wasn't flowery, like the perfume Ginny  
favored, and it wasn't musky like whatever it was that Fleur seemed to prefer. The smell was light, fresh,  
almost like clean laundry, but mixed with a spiciness that seemed to purely represent Hermione.

"Thanks." She blushed. "I think it just needed a year or two to breathe." Ron blinked in confusion as  
Hermione gazed up at him. She was obviously trying to say something in that damn subtle language that girls everywhere had perfected, but she needed to realize that he wasn't the King of Subtlety. Hermione  
apparently gathered that he was a bit lost and tossed him a lifeline. "That was a happy Christmas after  
all."

Suddenly it all came rushing back. A Christmas holiday started with extreme worry about his father, ending with homework planners and quidditch concerns and O.W.L. worries. Not to mention the rise of  
You-Know-Who through the connection with Harry's mind. He distinctly remembered the phrase she had used… _unusual_. He had remembered it was strong, not that it smelled this good. But for some reason it also reminded him of a potions lesson not so long ago.

"Ron?" Hermione pushed back from him, her eyes now filled with mirth.

"What?" he asked, jerking himself out of his self imposed reverie. "Did I step on your toes again?"

She shook her head. "I was just wondering if the Deluminator was in your pocket, or if you were just  
enjoying the dance."

Ron felt his jaw drop in shock as he jerked away from Hermione as her peals of laughter rang in his now very scarlet colored ears. "See?" she giggled, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "You're not the only one who can make a joke."


End file.
